Hidden Realms
by Raymie Stardust
Summary: In the grip of nightmares, Keroro's past memories come back to bite him - plunging him into a traumatized state. Can the young frog spying on him at the door snap him out it? A slice of KeroTama mutual Healing.


**Author's Note: Tamama is featured in the follow fic dressed a cat. This isn't my idea and came directly from this absolute work of genius here: s/9318744/7/Love-You-Crazy-or-Not. In case that link didn't work, that's chapter 7 ('The Clever Kitty Ploy') of 'Love You, Crazy or Not' by the fabulous Nayru Elric. I set up this fic as if the events of 'The Clever Kitty Ploy' have already taken place in KeroTama history, and Tamama is remembering them. (And I don't blame him; they were smoking hot ^^). **

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Tick,_ tick, tick,_ the clock persisted. From his make-shift bed in the Secret Base, Tamama scowled. He knew that if he let this night slip through his fingers, he'd have missed his chance. _Tick, tick, tick. _This was his last night sleeping in the Base while the Nishizawa mansion was out of action -the final hours.

The tadpole looked longingly at the warp portal in the corner of the tunnel. Beyond the mini fridge on the other side, his Gunsou-san would be sleeping peacefully. His frown melted away as he thought. _Or building Gundams._

The tadpole cradled his cup of steaming-hot melon soy milk close to his chest; the heat never normally bothered him, but he didn't even notice it this time - it was buffered by the paws of his snowy-white cat costume. Tamama stared at his pawed-hands bitterly as he topped up the milk from the jug by his bed. He'd dressed as a cat earlier to prize some attention from Keroro Gunsou, as it was his last day sharing houses. The first few times he'd played kitty, the sergeant had seemed shocked but at least a little curious. Now he didn't even seem to notice.

The tadpole had cherished these blissful days; he'd wake up and bound through the mini-fridge, usually to find Keroro had had made their breakfast and laid it out on the little round table. Then, bellies full, they'd spend the morning having Gundam battles, occasionally musing about life and going on missions to hide from Corporal Giroro whenever Kururu gave his word of warning – or rather, whenever the twisted sergeant major chose to be gracious.

Come noon, Keroro would make lunch, standing on the wooden Keronian-friendly stepladder with him and showing him how to cook properly ("I don't know what that mental institution taught you, but this tofu's all soggy! Give it here!"). Having finally eaten successfully, they'd share the chores or Keroro would delegate to Lady Mois, and he and Tamama would resume Gundam wars or go swimming in the Base, and wait for the Hinatas to come home. Midweek, they'd had dinner on the table by the time Natsumi's key twirled in the lock. Nobody had even gotten sick from Tamama's cooking.

The blue tadpole sighed, sipping his milk; he didn't want to go home. He thought of his huge bed with its crisp white sheets, mountains of duck feathered pillows and mattress his tiny body just sank into. He thought of the phone by his bed with the button to call a servant with almond tofu and hot banana soy or veggie sushi and pink lemonade. He thought of how Momochi would peep into his room sometimes in case he needed a friend to visit one of the mansions' Macdonalds with, or hit up the theme park, or just wanted someone to yammer away with – for better or worse. As much as he adored these luxurious pieces of his life - he _never wanted to go home. _

Tamama hadn't know paradise until this short week, and it was flitting away from him with every _tick tick tick. _His stomach felt bottomless and empty, his heart clutched at him for a solution. _Tick, tick, tick. _When the sun rose, he and Momochi would each be torn from their precious loves to make their sorrowful journey home – back to the drudgery of choosing which luxury golf cart to drive into the T.V room. A rich, empty life.

_It wouldn't be so bad if Keroro cared,_ his subconscious hissed to him. The tadpole gasped and pushed his hands over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut. Try as he might, he couldn't help wishing in his gut that the day would hold some meaning to Keroro as well as himself. But it didn't. Keroro had been reading manga all day with Fuyuki – or rather, Fuyuki had been reading it out to him - and had spend the last of the day in the bathtub, despite kitty Tamama offering to read to him after.

When he'd come out of the bathroom he'd been very distant and cold with the tadpole, giving one-word answers and then finally saying, 'Look, Tamama, I'm going to bed, de arimas.'

_Tick, tick, tick_, jeared the insolent clock.

_Its mocking me, _the youngster thought, ready to impact the clock into the wall. As he moved to glare up at it, his gaze fell on something that stilled him - he felt the rage dissolve in his chest. A pristine copy of _Stampede: Minovsky Hakase Monogatari_ lay open on the bed – Keroro's mint first edition Gundam manga he'd given Tamama to read if he couldn't sleep.

The tadpole groaned and held his head in his hands, _I'm so spoilt, _he thought miserably. It had been the most amazing week of his life, and yet; there he was wanting more. _Tick, tick, tick. _Every moment was precious. Tamama knew he'd get to say goodbye to his sergeant in the morning, but he had to do it in his own way – the part of him that loved unconditionally needed its farewell.

He finished his milk.

Beyond the mini-fridge, Keroro was twitching violently in his small bed, shuddering in the death grip of nightmares – thrashing his limbs against an invisible threat...

In his dream, the latest Keronian's scream shattered in Keroro's ears. There was only one way off this helicopter – to jump. To the frog's horror, the next two guys decided to go together. _This is it, _thought Keroro; _I'm going to die. _If it wasn't from screwing up with his parachute, it would be from shear terror. What if it all happened too fast? What if he panicked too much - or passed out - and couldn't save himself? What if he couldn't even tell which way was up?

'Daddy,' murmered Keroro feverishly – his his dream and out loud - 'Daddy, why have you forsaken me?'

He used to love being the only child of the Demon Sergeant. A giddy jaunt though life - being poked in the belly by strangers who wanted to touch the Keron Star for luck. Being cherished as royalty for simply learning to burp. Bragging of the days to come when he'd be big and strong and conquer so many inferior planets...he'd never once thought of the actual work, the physical strain - the chance that he was, in fact, mortal. The alien pinched himself and sighed. Squishy-wet frog flesh like everyone else.

'How ya holdin' up there, Master Keroro?'

Keroro jumped at the voice, looking around wildly to see one of his superior officers standing before him. He snapped to attention. 'Oh, _fine_! I-I'm just peachy~!'

'Good - 'cause you're next!'

The green frog's heart froze in it's wild pounding, and before he could process anything, Keroro was flung from the chopper.

Still asleep, the sergeant let out a broken scream from between his laboured breaths. He was half sitting up, cowering in the sheets soaked with cold sweat.

Meanwhile, in the somewhat ajoining room, Tamama crept to the warp portal on tip-toes, reaching his kitty paws through the darkness. Butterflies in his tummy, the tadpole-cat thought about how adorable his Gunsou-san would look fast asleep. _One Peep, _he told himself, _a quick goodbye and then you're going back to bed. _He pushed open the mini-fridge door ever so slightly, butterflies fluttering joyously. Unwittingly, he wagged his tail, which in turn wagged the cat tail.

He gazed around the room excitedly - only to be greeted by a blood-curdling sight. Keroro lay on his hip, his legs and upper body raised tensely and his head craning around in wild panic. His breathing was shuddering and heavy, his face gaunt and ashen; his entire being covered in sweat.

Tamama let out a sharp gasp of horror as his eyes fell on his hero. The wagging ceased; the tadpole paralysed.

Keroro thrashed around through his nightmares, kicking the blanket to the ground and clutching at the pillow, shrieking wildly; 'no, _no -I didn't kill them!'_

'G-Gunsou-san...' whispered Tamama, still rooted to the spot.

In the sergeant's dream, he saw the lifeless mouse-like alien bodies that littered the sands of a planet he hadn't even bothered to learn the name of; the unknown victims of a race he'd never heard of. His skin crawled; their faces were frozen forever in their entwined devastation and terror. The fallen were mostly his age, some looked younger. One such creature lay at his feet – it was holding something. The green frog reached down to touch it, moaning in despair when he realized what it was - a Captain Geroro action figure, burnt and melted almost beyond recognition. Dream Keroro whimpered.

'Sergeant Keroro!' cried a voice behind him, 'you should be proud, solidier! Your father's armies have taken this planet! We did it; _We're on Keronian soil!_'

The soldier ran past him as he made no response, his fingers closing lightly around the action figure. Suddenly he heard gunfire behind him, and whirled around to see a single mouse-like creature tearing towards him, eyes blazing with the hot, angry tears of vengeance.

Dream Keroro yelped and covered his eyes.

There was a shot.

He quaking frog forced his hands down and peeped over them. The keronian soldier from before was standing behind him with a smoking gun - the mouse-like alien lay dead a little way ahead. It's singular final word before death would be seared forever into Keroro's mind; 'mama.'

'Gunsou-san!' Tamama shrieked, 'wake up, desu!'

Keroro made no response; he'd curled up into a shivering ball, whimpering.

Suddenly – frightening the life out of the shocked tadpole – Keroro sat bolt upright and screamed hysterically into the dark room, clutching at his face.

'W-what is it, des-ka?' stammered the adolescent.

The reply was nothing but helpless whimpering.

Heart scrabbling in his chest, Tamama waved his arms, 'Gunsou-San! It's me, it's _Tamama_!' He paused, 'C-Can't you see me?'

Keroro was looking right through him. The youngster had never seen so much terror on one face. Not in the mental illness care home, not out on the battlefield - not even in Keroro faced with a thirsty Nyororo. The leader's eyes were vacant and bloodshot, teeth chattering, his usually vibrant skin almost white.

The tadpole shook his head, throat aching with dryness; 'G-gunsou-san...'

He didn't remember stepping through the mini-fridge fully, but he noticed warily that it had closed behind him. He was trembling all over, making the bell from the kitty-collar around his neck tinkle incessantly.

The green alien twitched.

From where he lay in the mud on the battlefield, unable to move his body from the waist down, Dream Keroro heard a bell in the sky. It was as if the sound was leaking in from a different universe – a oddly familiar, twinkly sound that brought back deep-seated memories...memories of a little white cat with grey-and-brown spots and a flicky tail...the taste of shio musubi...

In his bed at the Hinatas', the sergeant was still unmoving besides his quivering and chattering teeth, but at the sound of the bell he uttered one single word; 'T-tamama.'

'I'm here, I'm here!' the tadpole cried, rushing over to his sergeant's bedside and clasping his hands together. Relief flooded through him as, finally, Keroro focused on him with his bleary, empty gaze.

Everything was blurry and dark, but in front of him, a shadow was fidgeting. Something shone in the moonlight – two snowy-white pointed kitten ears.

'T-Tamama? How are you here?'

Reality reaching Tamama with a sharp jolt, he garbled a reply; 'I – errr heard a noise desu! I came to see...j-just in case...'

'I-Is it really you?' Keroro said slowly, rubbing his eyes.

'Umm, ye-es?' The tadpole shuffled his feet. What was wrong with his sergeant?

'Oh my God...' The leader gazed numbly around the room. Tamama watched as he tenuously picked up a Gunpla from the bedside table, gazing at it in amazement; 'oh my God...'

The younger Keronian blinked; his gunsou-san's shoulders were shaking. Tamama clutched at his stomach – it felt like he'd just gone down in an elevator. He'd seen his leader cry before, of course...but not like this.

'G-gunsou-san...'

'Don't call me that!' Keroro snapped without looking up.

Tamama breathed an internal sigh of relief. Anger. That was something he could deal with. He got to his knees and pressed his forehead to the carpet, 'Nii-sama; Gomenasi, desu.'

'Tamama...' The older alien murmered, and then looked straight at him, the colour returning to his cheeks; 'Tamama! Oh _Tamama!_ Come here, kudasai!'

_What the hell? _thought the dark tadpole – his sergeant had never said please before - like, ever. He got to his feet and shuffled closer, where Keroro reached out and grasped the synthetic fur of the cat costume with both hands, as if he still wanted to make sure Tamama was real, and wasn't about to disappear. After a minute, the sergeant clutched the awkward tadpole tightly around the waist and sobbed into the costume.

After it became apparent that this sobbing fit wasn't stopping any time soon, the young keronian reached out and rubbed his shaking leader's head, gingerly but lovingly. In hushed tones he tried, 'what happened, nii-sama?'

'Tamama-kun,' Keroro moaned through his tears, 'will you come in the bed with me, de arimas-ka-na?'

The tadpole was paralysed once more, and suddenly he felt the way he'd done when he first caught sight of the state of his sergeant. He clenched his fists to stop his hands from shaking, 'of course I will, d-desu.'

Keroro still gripping him at the waist, he faced away from him and climbed unsteadily onto the bed, flopping beside the weeping green mass. The sergeant immediately clutched him close – closer than Tamama had ever been held by anyone – Keroro's legs and arms wrapped around him. He was now completely unable to move, his heartbeat rocked his whole being both back and fourth, his vision blurry – it seemed like the room was getting larger and smaller with the ebb and flow.

Keroro's sobbing had become desolate.

As he listened to the mournful sounds, something awoke deep inside Tamama's soul. Miraculously, he unfroze. Shifting delicately to face the older frog, the serene adolescent pushed himself into a sitting position and cradled Keroro close; 'My heart goes out to you, desu. It hurts me to see you in such pain.'

The weeping grew softer, and Tamama resumed stroking his idol's head, still securing him with his other arm. All feelings of panic having left him, the ultramarine keronian exhaled with a deep feeling of peace. It felt like a weight he hadn't known he'd been carrying had gracefully grown wings and flown the nest, leaving him gazing after it.

Keroro burrowed his face into Tamama's chest and felt the tadpole's arm grip him tighter, comforted by the youngster's combination of battle-worn strength and tender fingertips brushing his head. He let his heavy eyelids fall.

The tadpole gazed down at the lime green bundle in his arms. He'd never seen Keroro look so childlike; he looked physically younger. He clung blindly to the tadpole's waist like a Pekoponian koala cub. Tamama felt an untameable burning in his chest.

'Nii-san...I love you,' he breathed, fearless, 'And I _will_ protect you...' his voice wavered, 'from whatever it is...'

From where he was buried in the dark tadpole's chest, the sergeant chuckled softly, moving to gaze up at his friend, '...like a guard kitty?'

Tamama blushed, giving a soft giggle; 'hai desu.' He stopped suddenly, realizing that Keroro was trembling again.

'What is it, nii-sama?' he asked fearfully, 'is it coming back?'

'N-no, I'm just cold all of a sudden. So cold.'

Eyelids drooping sorrowfully, Tamama kept his arm around his idol as he reached down and grasped the blanket. He tucked it around his quaking green bundle – Keroro wasn't kidding; he was icy to the touch. Suddenly, the adolescent had a brilliant idea.

'Nii-san,' he cooed, 'stay here. I'll be one second, desu.'

'Wh-where are you going? You can't go!' Keroro clutched at him.

'One second, kudasai desu!' the tadpole squeezed his hand and wriggled from his grasp, darting through the mini-fridge.

The older frog stared after him blankly, then drew his knees up to his chest under the blanket and shivered.

Literally one second later, kitty Tamama bounced back through the mini-fridge clutching what looked like one of the Hinatas' jugs. 'Kero?'

Cat tail wagging, Tamama tenderly set the jug of melon soy milk down on the round table. 'Are you okay, nii-sama?'

'What have you brought me?' Keroro asked him, sniffing the air.

The tadpole smiled, 'you're just going to have to wait, desu...' he trained his eyes on the jug and sent two neon cerise lazer beams to it; the soy milk bubbling as it heated. He saw that his gunsou-san had curled back up into a ball and cursed under his breath – he'd forgotten the cup. Tamama frowned, _How was he going to.._.his eyes scanned the room, seeking out a cup of some sort. All he found was an empty milk baby-bottle. _From when Gunsou-san_ _was mama to that space cuckoo, Babubu, _the tadpole remembered.

Suddenly his eyes went wide and glittered, and the cat tail twitched; glowing delight radiating from an idea; an idea that washed over him like Keronian sunshine; an idea that made him dizzy.

Gleefully, Tamama seized the bottle and carefully poured in the milk, screwing the lid with the skilled flick of a master martial artist.

'Tamama...?'

'Nii-sama; one moment, kudasai!' sang the elated adolescent. Caught in the moment, he shook the bottle and tested the temperature on his wrist. It was perfect.

'One moment, one moment desu,' he skipped to the bed and slid inside.

Keroro whimpered and shuffled closer to the tadpole-cat, resuming clutching at his waist. Tamama gently lifted him back into the position from before and held the bottle to his sergeant's lips.

'Tamama, what are you...?'

'I couldn't find a cup,' he squeezed the bottle slightly, causing a few drops of melon soy milk to fall into Keroro's mouth.

The older frog's eyes lit up, 'Oh! That's _heavenly _de arimas!'

'I know,' Tamama soothed, 'listen, something's obviously really shaken you up, and I want to help, desu.'

'You always help,' murmured the sergeant. He paused, gazing at the ceiling in bemusement, until a wry smile crept onto his face. He peered at the fledgling soldier with one eye squinted and one shaved eyebrow raised, before lowering his voice; '...you'd better not tell anyone about this.'

Before the tadpole could respond, his platoon leader had reached up and taken the rubber teat of the bottle in his mouth. Eyes wide, the youngster gazed down at him - fighting the urge to squirm in ecstasy. He gave a sly, salacious laugh, and purred; 'who's my baby?'

Keroro moved his face to the side, peering at Tamama from the sides of his narrowed eyes; 'don't push it, tadpole.'

Said tadpole gave another lascivious laugh, giddy with ascendancy. Keroro made a small noise of frustrated defeat.

Tamama shook the bottle temptingly, 'ready when you are!'

Sighing pointedly, the older frog relented, closing his eyes.

A deep sense of peace clouded over the bed.

With his other arm securing Keroro once more, Tamama gazed down at him, amazed; a dopey grin on his face.

Eventually, Keroro pushed the bottle out of his mouth and lay motionless with closed eyes. Tamama slid his body down in the bed, manoeuvring skilfully so as not to disturb his idol, facing away from him once more.

The sergeant whimpered, quivering a little and wriggling restlessly.

Slowly, the tadpole unzipped the bottom of his kitty costume and reached inside the cat tail, fishing out his own tail which had been rolled up inside it. He pushed it into Keroro's hands - who grasped it immediately. Neither one spoke, but the memory hung in the air between them. Tamama felt his sergeant clinging to his shoulder unsteadily with his free arm, and frowned as he listened to his erratic breathing, 'You aren't okay at all, are you?'

Keroro made no attempt to respond, but clutched the tadpole closer.

The young frog was about to try a prying strategy when he heard weeping again.

Sweet Keron - how he hated that sound. There were tears in his own eyes. 'Ke-Keroro...' whispered Tamama.

'You said my name...' there was wonder mixed with the sadness in Keroro's voice, 'My otamajakushi...I...have seen too much...'

The blue adolescent swallowed, turning to face Keroro, unsure how to respond; 'Of what des-ka? Me as a Pekoponian cat?'

The sergeant managed a world-weary smile, 'you're too innocent, Tamama. 'Pure, untainted, unjaded...' he toyed with the fur of the costume.

The tadpole glowed, his eyes fixed on his sergeant. It had never occurred to him that Gunsou-san might have hidden realms, too. And in that moment, staring down at the shattered wreck clinging to his faux fur – the real Keroro – he wanted him to meet the real Tamama.

'It's an act,' he said flatly.

The older frog tweaked the cat tail affectionately, 'I know.'

'...you can't.'

Keroro rolled his eyes, 'oh no, I can't, because you're such a monster...I can't possibly comprehend all the darkness and mayhem, de arimasu!' He reached out suddenly and tickled Tamama's belly; '_scary Tamama!_'

The younger frog squealed in mirth and shoved Keroro's hands away, 'stop, desu! You're avoiding again! Stop!'

The sergeant obeyed him and folded his arms, looking down at him through his lowered eyelids challengingly.

Tamama softened his voice to a whisper, 'Nii-sama, the scary...sleep stuff...how long has it been going on for?' He sighed when Keroro yawned purposefully, but he persisted, firmly but tenderly; 'I'm not a baby, nor am I simple-minded...it's post-traumatic stress, isn't it?'

With a dull sigh, Keroro spoke in monotone; 'war isn't a picnic, Tamama.'

The dark tadpole smirked at having hunted out a response but hid the expression behind his hand. Then he caught Keroro's implication. 'I know that!' he yelped defensively, 'I know that as well as you do!'

His elder cocked an eyebrow.

Tamama frowned; 'You just pretend it is so you won't be a disappointment, and I just pretend it is so I can spend my life with you...'

He felt Keroro's body stiffen.

'Gero! You notice so much, young Tamama - _too much,_' Keroro reprimanded him after a moment.

Tamama smirked with pride, completely forgetting to hide it; 'you can't say I don't know you, desu.'

'You don't know everything.'

Having suitably taken the wind from the tadpole's sails, the sergeant continued; 'but I didn't know you knew I was playing war hero. It often looks like I have you completely fooled...'

'Sometimes other parts of me take over, desu...'

'And you lose your sense?'

His sergeant's voice carried a wry tone that Tamama couldn't quite see through; '...something like that...' he wriggled uncomfortably in his kitty outfit, so Keroro loosened his grasp.

'Maybe it was the other parts of you I was worried about,' the older frog continued, 'but you were the last person I wanted to see tonight,' he squeezed the tailfin lightly, '...and the first.'

Eyelids lowered suggestively, Tamama gazed into the face of his beloved, then trailed a finger along his arm. After a while, he said, 'You know you don't need to hide anything from me, desu...'

Keroro laughed softly, 'so do you. The question is; will we listen to that?'

Tamama caught his skeptical look and cautiously joined in the laughter.

Their shared awkwardness brought a sheepish euphoria that lingered, covering them until morning.


End file.
